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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27523177">(un)Reality of Dreams</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndromedaofOthys/pseuds/AndromedaofOthys'>AndromedaofOthys</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dies Irae/Kajiri Kamui Kagura fics [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dies Irae (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Denial of Feelings, Disaster Bisexual Eleonore von Wittenburg, F/F, Feelings Realization, Kei Route Compliant (Dies Irae), Panicking Eleonore von Wittenburg, Post-Kei Route (Dies Irae), Rope Bondage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 05:40:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,268</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27523177</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndromedaofOthys/pseuds/AndromedaofOthys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Our favourite crimson knightess ties up her unconscious subordinate kinbaku-style, tries to deny she's a disaster bi, gets a fast reality check, and swears never to let her feelings be known because That's How Eleonore Rolls.</p><p>Poor Beatrice.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Beatrice von Kircheisen &amp; Eleonore von Wittenburg, Beatrice von Kircheisen/Eleonore von Wittenburg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dies Irae/Kajiri Kamui Kagura fics [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923934</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>(un)Reality of Dreams</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm feeling slightly embarrassed about this, but if no one is going to be writing Beatrice/Eleonore fics, I'll have to do it myself. You know - make what you want to see. Also, I did not drink a litre of water while writing this for it to stay in my drawer of shame and drafts!</p><p>I hard headcanon Eleonore is a disaster bi - she can pretend all she wants, but you do not talk that way about your subordinate and expect me to believe you're completely straight. I can't even be bothered to quote the specific lines from Kei Route that prove my point - from the moment she opened her mouth to talk with Lisa, I just knew. I accept no counterarguments xD</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Moments after the castle stopped its tremors, Eleonore finally was able to re-materialize herself inside it, cursing fluidly as she made sure there were no holes in her – all three of the Battalion Commanders had gone through the phase when they’d rush through materialization and subsequently forgot to put all bits of themselves in right places. It only happened twice to Eleonore – a downright miraculous number compared to Schreiber who still forgot parts of himself half the time, and Machina who often forgot to add in his mechanical features to his face – but even that was way too much for her perfectionist self.</p><p>Done with the check of herself, Eleonore rushed out of the hall she materialized in and ran through the corridors of Valhalla, reaching the throne room just in time to see the enormous broadsword being deflected by Longinus – the very same sword she’d spotted Cain toting around. So this was… this should be the third Tubal Cain, right?</p><p>“Welcome back, Samiel,” Lord Heydrich greeted her warmly, paying little attention to the boy opposing him. “Ever so fast, I see.”</p><p>“My Lord! How can I serve?” Eleonore quickly saluted him, which drew the boy’s gaze as he too stopped paying much attention to Lord Heydrich… who inexplicably let it slide, not attacking the obvious opening.</p><p>“Lady Samiel,” the boy bowed in the Eastern tradition, but the voice, meek and polite as it was, held a certain emotion Eleonore couldn’t quite pinpoint. Was it anger? Indignation? “I see Beatrice had not exaggerated in her description of you in the slightest.”</p><p>The way he casually used her subordinate’s name was more than enough to ignite the fire in Eleonore’s veins. The fight she’d lost against Beatrice was still fresh on her mind; she yearned to do it again, to re-meet this new-old Beatrice and cross her blade with hers, to learn everything she’d missed in the last sixty years… and this boy knew this Beatrice better than she did.</p><p>To say it burned her with humiliation would be a gross understatement.</p><p>Beatrice was her subordinate! She should know her the best!</p><p>“Samiel,” Lord Heydrich interrupted her rapidly spiraling thoughts. “Leave it. The boy declared himself my entertainment until the next time the time is nigh – go and rest until everyone else is ready. Though,” here he curled his lips in a small smile, “I do believe Valkyria is already trying to materialize. Truly, one should not underestimate her tenacity when she wants something.”</p><p>The boy snorted in tandem with Eleonore’s mental huff of exasperation – apparently, he was familiar with the stubborn fool’s idiosyncrasies. Just one more thing Eleonore would have to deal with – a rival for Beatrice’s attention. Was this boy the reason she’d strayed, the reason she’d changed to the point Eleonore had trouble even recognizing her?</p><p>A food for thought for another time. If there was one thing she now had, it was time until the next Sonnenkind was ready to conduct the ritual.</p><p>Saluting smartly, Eleonore walked out of the throne room, and descended down into the bowels of the castle. Normally, this path was closed, never to be seen unless you knew about the person – or, should she better put it,<em> thing</em> – existing down there, but Eleonore knew it, and so she easily opened the hidden doors and walked down narrow staircases as if she had walked them a thousand times, despite it being her first time down there.</p><p>“Isaak Eins Sonnenkind,” Eleonore called out as she descended deeper and deeper. “I have something to ask of you. Do you hear me?”</p><p><em>I hear you Samiel,</em> came the unemotional, almost robotic reply from the heart of Gladsheimr.<em> You wish to know of Valkyria.</em></p><p>“Indeed,” Eleonore smiled grimly, stopping in the middle of the flight of stairs. “Where’s that idiot subordinate of mine?”</p><p>
  <em>She should be in the rooms designated for her, </em>
  <span>came Isaak’s reply. Eleonore raised an eyebrow – she knew exactly where those rooms were, and knowing the little fool, she will not be happy about it.</span>
  <em> At least, she should be there until she awakens.</em>
</p><p>“<span>Flight risk, eh? Good luck,” Eleonore snickered. “She’s literally cornered there.”</span></p><p>
  <span>Isaak did not reply, but it was not needed: Eleonore knew where she should go now, and promptly went upwards and down the corridors to the residential wing of the castle. Originally, the castle had no such accommodations; neither the dead making the walls nor the living using the space ever truly needed sleep, or place to retreat to, except their favorite battlegrounds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, it had only taken about six months before Eleonore cracked and asked for private rooms, having grown tired of Schreiber’s incessant bothering and Machina’s surly demeanor around the clock. Lord Heydrich and Isaak graciously responded by creating an entire residential wing, filled with rooms designated for each member of the Obsidian Table, </span>
  <span>which were locked until their owners arrived at the castle through whatever means and acknowledged as true champions. Eleonore had managed to weasel out of Isaak the configuration of rooms that’d leave Beatrice trapped between the walls and Eleonore’s room, which was not too far away from Lord Heydrich.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the time, Eleonore just wanted to keep Beatrice close to her, but now this would prove to be advantageous to her as the little fool would most certainly try to make a mess. Not on Eleonore’s watch, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arriving at the golden door emblazoned with symbol of Tiwaz – Beatrice’s rune – Eleonore slinked into the room to find an all-too familiar sight of her peacefully slumbering subordinate. The clouds of sky-blue silk and white cotton covered the frame and the bedding of the four-poster bed made of dark wood, and Beatrice’s blonde locks, normally tied in a ponytail, spilled free of all trappings and decorated the </span>
  <span>white</span>
  <span> pillows like gold veins. </span>
  <span>She was still dressed in her uniform, and Eleonore sighed as she noticed how solid she seemed.</span>
</p><p>“<span>Rushing through it can easily leave you mad, you moron.”</span></p><p>
  <span>She had to stop her foolish sylph from rushing through the materialization process. For heaven’s sake, she’d basically had her entire soul burned off by Eleonore’s fire and her own reckless usage of lightning – she should rest and stop trying to kill herself by sheer idiocy!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T</span>
  <span>here was no way she could stop her materializing herself… but there was a way of slowing it down. She and other two commanders had figured it out by accident about decade into their life inside Valhalla; Schreiber complained of Machina’s ridiculously fast re-materialization pace, and with several tests they figured out how to slow </span>
  <span>it to a more manageable degree</span>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eleonore bit her lip: she wasn’t the biggest fan of this, but… Beatrice needed rest, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Making a quick trip to her own rooms, she picked up all the necessary equipment and returned to Beatrice’s side, sitting down and just taking a look at her subordinate’s face. It was almost weird seeing it not smiling, or grinning while spouting her nonsense, but it was less heartbreaking than seeing that cold rage Eleonore had glimpsed during their fight. She had never thought she’d see that look pointed in her direction, but it had, and Eleonore couldn’t deny being hurt by it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hurting and being hurt was nothing new to Eleonore, but exchanging such a thing with Beatrice felt so unnatural, she almost stopped herself from this. But after a few moments, in which Beatrice had grown noticeably less transparent, Eleonore made her choice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First things first, though. There was no need for it to be any more uncomfortable than strictly necessary. Eleonore carefully peeled off Beatrice’s uniform, noting the well-maintained </span>
  <span>edges and crisp lines, untouched by over fifty years of wear and tear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The straps for the gear came off first, followed by the long overcoat, then boots, pants, tie, and finally shirt. During this, Beatrice didn’t as much as twitch, but Eleonore kept a close eye on her in case she needed to quickly throw a blanket over her – Valkyria easily got cold, and she always needed more blankets than rest, which led to quite a few cuddle sessions with Eleonore due to Eleonore’s naturally higher body temperature.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light blue silk nightgown was pulled on with utmost delicateness: Eleonore even made sure the thin shoulder straps did not bite into the fair skin and that the fabric would not bunch in the strange places. </span>
  <span>Then, the final step came – the actual slowing down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shimmer of the golden rope spilled everywhere as Eleonore drew patterns with it over the blue fabric and pale skin. The loop </span>
  <span>upon loop over the arms crossed </span>
  <span>behind the back</span>
  <span>, never reaching beyond the elbows. The diamond pattern drawn on the smooth calves, binding them together before they were folded under the thighs and then bound to them. Several delicate lines over the chest and looping around the back of the neck, careful never to cross into the territory of strangulation, </span>
  <span>more there for decoration than anything else</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>Finally, the loop around the middle of the torso, which was then tied to one of the beams of the bed, leaving only the legs, arms and top of the head touching the bedding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a soothing process for Eleonore, </span>
  <span>who only wished to express her love for her subordinate with these bindings,</span>
  <span> and seeing the result – Beatrice hanging suspended by a single thick golden rope made out of Valhalla’s walls, arms and legs bound just tightly enough to restrict</span>
  <span> and impede materialization</span>
  <span> but not to hurt – took her breath away. In that position, it was almost too easy to imagine Beatrice like she once was: insecure, fearful, clinging to the strength of her superior, but still brave enough to take a step forward at the lightest of nudges, </span>
  <span>to grab her sword and stare death down before defeating it</span>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was the image of </span>
  <span>powerful</span>
  <span> helplessness, and </span>
  <span>it was…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eleonore quickly turned her eyes away from the sight, drinking a whole glass of water to soothe her suddenly parched throat. No, she would not think like this – she had done this only to help Beatrice so she would not lose her mind, and nothing else. Everything else was of no importance – it was Beatrice’s well-being that was on line, and Eleonore shouldn’t even entertain that type of thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Honestly, had she been infected with some sort of madness during that fight?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t help but sneak another look at the sleeping girl, </span>
  <span>though</span>
  <span>. Her hair, which had started curling at the ends, looked more golden than p</span>
  <span>latinum blonde under the dim lights in her room, adding another dimension to the unreality of that moment. She didn’t even look real, more akin to a doll or an angel than an actual being of flesh and blood, and Eleonore was powerless – she had to keep looking.</span>
</p><p>“<span>Major…”</span></p><p>
  <span>Eleonore startled, panic raising in her chest. Had her efforts been for nothing? Beatrice’s eyes remained closed, though, and after a moment Eleonore realized what was happening – Beatrice started sleep-talking.</span>
</p><p>“<span>Don’t… have… say…”</span></p><p>
  <span>Eleonore nearly collapsed into a puddle on Beatrice’s bed from relief. Her subordinate only sleep-talked when she was deeply asleep – her mission was a success! Now, she only had to catch a nap herself before releasing her out of the bindings…</span>
</p><p>“<span>Please</span><span>… don’t… miss you… ”</span></p><p>
  <span>Those words rooted her in her spot. Eleonore had seen a tiny glimpse of that during their fight – Beatrice did miss her and wished above all else to see her again. Was she calling out to her again? There were no obvious </span>
  <span>relation, but she had called out to Eleonore before, and there was no pain in her expression...</span>
</p><p>“<span>My life… empty… Berlin… mission… reminded… I… song… not… you…</span><span>”</span></p><p>
  <span>The words grew more and more incoherent, less tied together, but Eleonore’s heart and mind absorbed them all, joyously singing at the clear sign of how much Beatrice still thought about her.</span>
</p><p>“<span>Don’t worry, you little fool,” Eleonore murmured, leaning closer to cup Beatrice’s cheek. “I’ll stay with you. We promised each other, didn’t we?”</span></p><p>
  <em>No one and nothing will ever separate us,</em>
  <span> the words of a long-forgotten oath surfaced to the forefront of her mind, and Eleonore hummed lightly, pressing her forehead to Beatrice’s </span>
  <span>before laying her head on her shoulder, which was still touching the bed</span>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>“<span>Until the end of the time itself, nothing and no one.”</span></p><p>
  <span>She fell asleep like that, cradling Beatrice’s face and head placed on the area connecting the shoulder and rest of the torso.</span>
</p><p>Her dreams, however, gave Eleonore no respite.</p><p>“<em>Ah, Major, please,” Beatrice whined, trying to wiggle out of the ropes, but Eleonore was not having any of it, pressing her subordinate down with her body.</em></p><p>“<em>You lost,” Eleonore mercilessly reminded her. “This was an agreed punishment, was it not?”</em></p><p>“<em>But I didn’t think - !” Beatrice was scarlet all over, having been denied even a scrap of clothing before Eleonore tied her up like a turkey with golden ropes and displayed her on Eleonore’s bed. “You’re too cruel, Major!”</em></p><p>“<em>You. Lost,” Eleonore punctuated her words with light pokes at the exposed inner thighs, which only worsened the blush and made Beatrice avert her eyes from Eleonore – an inexcusable sin, which Eleonore immediately rectified by cupping the cheek and forcing Beatrice’s gaze back where it should be. “Do I have to add another punishment for disobedience?”</em></p><p>“<em>N-no,” Beatrice whimpered, and something about that helpless, wide-eyed gaze of hers turned Eleonore on so much, she couldn’t help but tease her subordinate more. Gloved fingers gliding down the smooth skin unblemished by a single thing, she enjoyed the shudders and faint whimpers escaping her sylph’s normally disobedient mouth. “Please no!”</em></p><p>“<em>Good,” Eleonore murmured hypnotically, outlining the shape of the breasts bound with rope before switching to the jut of the hip, splaying her palm there. “But you have to continue behaving if you want to keep it that way.”</em></p><p>“<em>I-I’ll behave!” Beatrice yelped at the sudden change of sensation, trying her hardest not to move around. It was so cute, Eleonore couldn’t help but smile...</em></p><p>… <em>and sneakily slide her other, ungloved and unburned, hand to other’s pelvis.</em></p><p>“<em>Mph -!”</em></p><p>
  <em>Beatrice barely contained her cry, eyes tearing up at the overload of sensation: Eleonore had let her fires rise close to the surface, making her skin almost feverishly hot, and pressed the tip of her finger at the outer labia. It was both too close and yet not close enough, as Eleonore knew from experience; tortuously light touch on such a chaste spot was nothing but cruel after hours of similar touches. However, this was in part a punishment, and Eleonore couldn’t let Beatrice off the hook just yet.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Besides, it wasn’t like Beatrice couldn’t break out of the ropes if she really wanted; she was an Einherjar, after all. This was a willing submission as much as it was a punishment, and so Eleonore continued the delightful torment. The finger slid close closer to clitoris, but still stayed away, drawing another cry.</em>
</p><p>“<em>Major, please, please…”</em></p><p>
  <em>Ah, there it was. An honest desperation entered Beatrice’s voice – she was on the edge of breaking, the skin too hot, the touches too light, the ropes not allowing her any room to escape, and sparks of lightning popping off her skin as she struggled to keep her soul’s true nature in check.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Eleonore took pity on the poor girl.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She massaged the fleshy nub lightly at first, then with more firm touch as the cries and whimpers caressed her ears – music to her ears. The dichotomy of the innocent looks and utter lewdness of the situation stroked the fire in Eleonore’s chest and stomach, and she also found herself struggling to keep her soul’s fire from escaping the confines of her vessel. She burned, and burned, and burned, just like how Beatrice burned, and it was the high Eleonore could not get enough of, particularly once the lightning started landing on her and causing minor shocks to run through her body.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>More, more… </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The movements grew more erratic as Eleonore panted, her unbound crimson hair threatening to strangle her as she continued massaging the slick-covered clitoris. The fire and lightning, stroking each other, giving and taking from each other, spurring both Eleonore and Beatrice further – the feedback loop was enough to drive one insane, and the cries and pants transformed into screams and gasps as they finally reached their climax.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The electricity of the white-out hit Eleonore so hard, she collapsed on top of Beatrice, tears dripping onto Beatrice’s naked chest and ropes there. This… she had only imagined such a bliss before, and now that she’d experienced it, she had to have it again. It was such an addicting feeling, she could almost understand why everyone chased after it. She was not the type, but with the right partner… </em>
</p><p>“<em>Major…”</em></p><p>“<em>Hm?”</em></p><p>“<em>How are... you feeling?” Beatrice’s words slurred slightly, like she had been out drinking and was now hitting the sleepy phase. “I feel so good...”</em></p><p>“<em>So do I,” Eleonore admitted with no embarrassment or hesitation. Slowly, her hands moved to untie her subordinate, loosening the knots and checking for the abrasions. “The calm is…”</em></p><p>
  <em>It was difficult to describe the calm that washed over her – Eleonore had never experienced that level of calm before, after all. </em>
</p><p>“<em>M-hm,” Beatrice hummed, limbs completely limp and tension-less as Eleonore arranged them for easier untying of knots. “I guess I do... like ropes, after all… Thought it’d… be a bad feeling… but it was so good…”</em></p><p>
  <em>Eleonore smiled softly as she finished untying the ropes and coiled them at the nightstand, then dragged a heavy blanket over to cover herself and Beatrice, whose skin was already starting to cool down – the girl had ridiculously low base temperature and easily got chilled.</em>
</p><p>“<em>Sleep now.”</em></p><p>“<em>Don’t go…” Beatrice muttered, and Eleonore embraced her from behind in response, burying her face in the blonde locks.</em></p><p>“<em>Of -”</em></p><p>Eleonore woke up from that dream with a quiet gasp. Panicking, she looked around to check whether Beatrice had woken up – she had not – and if anyone was watching – they weren’t.</p><p>This depraved fantasy… it would have to stay buried forever. No one would ever know of this, and she would never slow down Beatrice’s re-materialization after this. No, she could not… Beatrice was her subordinate! This would make her no better than the likes of Bey or Malleus – she would never speak of it, never act on it!</p><p>Lighting her finger, Eleonore quickly burned away the knots on the ropes, unbinding Beatrice’s still sleeping body and tucking her under the covers before making a hasty escape to her room, where she hid the hair comb she’d made specifically for Beatrice when she reached Valhalla: the pure gold comb with white-blue Tiwaz and ruby red Sowilo dangling like charms off it, representing their inviolable bond. It was a beautiful gift, one fit for a royalty, but now that Eleonore was aware of how just big of a temptation her subordinate was to her, she would never be able to look at the comb in Beatrice’s hair and not think of it as a mark of possession, as a mark of belonging…</p><p>Eleonore thought she had never possessed anything that was irreplaceable until she met Lord Heydrich. But apparently, she had just been in denial about Beatrice, and for that exact reason, she’d never let anyone know. She would not allow anyone to use Beatrice as ammunition against her – her little fool would be kept far away from such things.</p><p>She would not lose her, even if it meant never showing her the depth of her feelings.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For those curious as though what exactly Beatrice was saying (bold is what Eleonore heard):</p><p><b>Major</b> Wittenburg...</p><p><b>Don’t</b> go, I <b>have</b> so much to <b>say</b> to you...</p><p><b>Please</b> don't leave me, <b>don’t</b> go, I <b>miss you</b>… </p><p><b>My life</b> has been so <b>empty</b> without you. After <b>Berlin</b>, on every <b>mission</b> I'd be <b>reminded</b> of you. <b>I</b> could barely sing my <b>song</b>, it just was <b>not</b> the same without <b>you</b>…</p></blockquote></div></div>
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